


March Hare

by threewalls



Series: The Adventures of Dashing Sky Weasel and Hare [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Animals, F/M, Furry, Nipple Play, Non-Anthro, Rain, Sharing Body Heat, Thunder and Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-12
Updated: 2008-07-12
Packaged: 2017-10-15 05:59:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewalls/pseuds/threewalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><cite>Hare had wanted to run in the rain.</cite></p>
            </blockquote>





	March Hare

The sky shook above the canyon that sheltered their ship. Dashing had outdone his best to bring them safely to anchor, for this was no night for flying. The ground under Hare's feet was gravel and puddles, invisible fronds and branches bending and flicking back against her haunches as she ran.

Dashing had stayed with the ship. His size and the thinness of his fur made his skin was more sensitive than hers, the chill wet and the wind more dangerous. Right now, even her own night vision was unreliable, her sense of sound directionless, shattered by the flash, clatter and howl of the storm, but Hare had wanted to run in the rain.

She ran breathless and skin-slicked, ears turned back her only concession to the rain. She ran blind and free until she felt as though she were running in the clouds, leaping and dodging thunderbolts. Her heart's rhythm beat quickly, reminding her of that of a mouse, or more familiarly, a weasel. Hare turned, and began racing headlong towards the only light in the valley, the Strahl's open gangway.

"My dear, mad Hare," Dashing said, as he pressed the button that raised the gangway, sealing away the storm to the patter of the hull. "Let's get you out of these wet things."

There was brandy warm in his mouth, and then it was in her mouth, for her to swallow, but it was his lips that warmed her face. His nimble claws hooked under the hem of her sodden tunic, peeling it back from her fur.

Dashing offered her a folded towel that he had kept near the door, but quite out of the rain. Hare rubbed at her wet fur until it was merely damp, and watched Dashing make short work of his shirt and vest. She followed him up to the flight deck, to their nested bedding lit by the lightning flashing through the viewscreen.

Hare drank more brandy from his mouth, for the bottle was cold, and Dashing's mouth was hot. And when she felt quite hot herself, she did not swallow, but fed the brandy back to him, until the bottle was empty.

Hare lay on her side with the bulkhead at her back. Dashing bent over her, rubbing the side of his face against her soft belly fur. His teeth found one of her nipples, just as his claws found its mate.

Above them, the sound of thunder gave way to its echo, and to the steady thrumming of raindrops, before light filled the cabin, and the sky broke over again. Dashing nipped and stroked her other pairs of nipples in turn, and then licked lower still, where it was not the rain that had made her wet. Hare held a paw behind his dear, pointed head and her footpaws kicked, as though she were running still.


End file.
